


Swallow Your Prayers (Shift into Neutral)

by Prociions



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: (body horror is never fully graphic but present), Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Alternate Universe - Truckers, Americana, Blood, Body Horror, Emetophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reincarnation, Supernatural - Freeform, THEY FUCK FIRST, Whump, borrows heavily from hades game but is also shaped by other greek myths not included in that medium, fly free my poor kids, like a terrible butterfly, shades of unreliable narrator, slow burn but backwards bc like, sometimes ur body just goes through a fucked up metamorphosis, stigmata (but for greek gods), surreality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prociions/pseuds/Prociions
Summary: Charon makes a break in his delivery schedule to pick up a hitchhiker by the name of Hermes. Neither one aware of the fates they have tempted; what changes are sure to come knocking at their door.The vast, endless track of the American Highway is a fantastic place to lose your mind; and maybe even fall in love (just a little bit.)
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	Swallow Your Prayers (Shift into Neutral)

**Author's Note:**

> this one is, to quote scrumpy, this ones for me. this is my pile of garbage that you all can read if you want to but don't need to. It's a tonally dissonant nightmare that im going to have a fantastic time in and no one else needs to enjoy at all. sometimes u gotta feed urself u know.

There are those sensations that become pleasing through repetition. Enjoyed because of their familiarity instead of their own merits.

Solitude was often one of them.

Charon had - for as long as he could remember - possessed the talent of reliably melting into the background no matter the situation, despite being well over six feet tall. It had left him with an appreciation for fading into obscurity, borne out of long standing habit.

He had passed through life like a wraith; a long, gaunt figure that lingered on the edges of one’s vision. Alone. Imposing. Charon seemed to subsist solely on the merits of hard work, devoid of other kinds of passion or substance. Not only in regards to the spiritual, but also including the physical. Bony fingers and visible ribs that, when coupled with pale eyes, created a visual that landed closer to corpse than man. The little meat on those bones gnarled and packed with sinew.

The thread of his life was solitary and undisturbed for the most part. Up until that night, the fates had only intertwined it with two others. His siblings, fallen into Charon’s care after a spotty and bleak sort of childhood. In the rich tapestry of the world, that thread skirted the outlines of the image, barely integrated with the whole. Pleasant in its limited scope, enjoying its isolation.

Right at the apex of change, before his string was tied irrevocably to another; the dying breaths of his reliable routine came in the form of the weather. Standard on all counts, not thundering with lightning or anything equally ominous as that.

The forces of destiny had contented themselves with a perfectly average flurry, commonplace for that time of year.

Slush spun through the air, dancing across the headlights of eighteen wheelers crammed tightly into their designated parking spaces. This specific breed of Interstate gas stations - those super-size-me tall pillars of neon light blinking away in the darkness of early morning - always tried to make the most of their space. Setting the haul truck spaces way down at the end, nearly bumper to bumper. As far as possible from the minivans, in order to spare the family road trip crowd the presence of truckers who would be on I-95 at 2 AM.

A living testament to the peculiarities of that species; Charon barely remembered to dispose of his cigarette before entering the lobby of the building, flicking the butt behind him to sizzle out in a puddle of half-melted snow.

He walked mechanically to the cooler section in the back, familiar with the store layout that was repeated mile after mile, stop after stop, regardless of brand. He grabbed two energy drinks and a bottle of water, idly debating the merits of risking an encounter with Gas Station pizza at this time of night.

In any other situation, he would have continued walking towards the counter. Ignored the small crowd around the complimentary microwaves, rung up his purchases and left. Tonight, the half-asleep, reptilian hindbrain part of his mind which drove his body on autopilot, was jerked back into full consciousness by a specific sound. The smug cadence of a younger sibling being deliberately antagonistic on purpose.

Charon, driven by years of having to rescue Hypnos from the kind of trouble his curt commentary usually got him into, began walking towards the voice without a thought.

“Well I have to say I’m so glad we found each other, at your service gentlemen. Since you seem so enamored with my t-shirt, I’ll give you a hot tip. Can’t get this in stores!” The speaker was young-looking, matching his bright voice; smiling up at the group of scowling men surrounding him with no concern for his safety.

“This is a one of a kind exclusive,” The speaker’s voice dropped an octave, catty and cutting as his smile turned mocking. “Got it from plowing your dad so good he got a divorce.”

Charon didn’t give his hostile audience the time to react, walking through them with what he hoped was insulting ease. Stiff shoulders bumping uselessly into his chest, parting in the wake of his trajectory. He stopped right before the poor idiot dangerously close to getting the shit kicked out of him. Body firmly in between him and the rest of the people he insisted on antagonizing.

“Well, _hello nurse;_ I see someone else wanted to join the party.” Charon’s form was scraped over, top to bottom, in a lecherous once over. Both of them taking in the details of the other. The stranger, presumably enjoying what he saw; or enjoying making others uncomfortable by letting them think he did.

Charon’s impressions trended decidedly more towards unsettled. Little unflattering details balling up into a larger whole that screamed ‘bad situation’ in blinking neon lights.

Whoever he was, he was _short,_ barely level with Charon’s chin. An effect doubled by the choice in clothing. A slapdash mix of too-small shorts and a too-big jacket that left him drowning in a sea of denim; no matter how much the cuffs had been rolled. The barely there bottoms were swallowed up by an equally oversized t-shirt, presumably partially responsible for the whole situation.

It read ‘ **ASS SLAYER** ’ in a bright eye catching font.

Weird details, but not as unsettling as the rest of him. Washed out under the fluorescents, bags under his eyes, half-healed scrape scabbing over his cheek. A backpack stuffed to bursting slung over one shoulder. The kind of person who had only a vague idea of where they were headed, and no one to notice if he ended up missing.

Charon held out his planned purchases towards him, which the stranger took not only without complaint, but with a gleeful smile.

Behind them, the other men had gotten tired of waiting for Charon to turn around. “Hey buddy, move out of the fucking way.” The leader of the little posse was an unfortunately well-muscled man, sporting a scraggly mustache, backed by his equally scraggly looking sidekicks.

Charon gave him a cool once over - markedly less lecherous than the one he had received earlier - taking a cigarette out of his pocket. Slowly and deliberately, he went about the task of lighting it up. Still resolutely standing in place.

Undersized-mustache, let out a hard exhale, snorting like a mad bull. The force of his breath making the wispy ends of his facial hair quiver. As if sharing in his rage.

Charon tucked the cigarette into the corner of his mouth, sending a plume of smoke towards the ceiling. ‘ _Leave.’_ He signed, punctuating it with a shooing motion to make his intentions clear.

Undersized-mustache bristled, his cronies lagging a second or two behind until they realized that now was as good a time as any for the rest of them to get equally angry.

Charon tensed, readying for the moment to break, one way or another. Shifting into a wider stance just in case.

“Excuse me,” A gas station employee cut in. “Can I help you with anything?”

Mustache and his compatriots turned towards the newcomer, eager to have someone else to take out their frustrations on. Growing quickly and visibly disappointed at which employee had been dispatched to deal with the situation. Not the young girl behind the counter, who peeked at them over rows of sugar free gum packets. But a gruff looking man, nearly as tall as Charon, surpassing mustache in bulk.

Charon could see the gears turning in the mens’ heads. Evaluating the size of Charon, and the size of the employee’s considerable biceps. Hamster wheel turning into overdrive as they successfully calculated their not so great odds in the face of an actual fight.

“Fuck it,” Spat mustache, switching tracks when faced with someone who would probably kick _his_ ass. “You’ve just lost a loyal customer jackass.” He stormed out, flanked by his sidekicks, who scrambled after him obediently. Nodding triumphantly in support of their leader’s brave last stand.

First half of the problem addressed, the employee turned towards Charon. Still very buff, but looking incredibly tired. “You can’t smoke inside Sir. I’m going to have to ask you to put that out, and exit the store if you’re not planning on purchasing anything.”

Charon conceded without argument. Stubbing his cigarette in the pockmarked formica of the nearby countertop. One more stain in a sea of hot dog grease drippings and flakes of crusted cheese sauce that formed the Ground Zero of a gas station microwave.

“Not a great idea to bite the hand that feeds you, so to speak, but I’ve been told I couldn't shut up if I tried, so I’m doing it anyway.” The stranger sidled along Charon’s periphery as the employee departed, mouth upturned into a smarmy sort of smile. “So, this your regular Wednesday night big guy? Just cruising the highway looking for any stray hate crimes to interrupt? Or are you an even bigger freak than those three?”

He awkwardly juggled Charon’s drinks, weirdly pleased for someone who might have been, by his own admission, rescued by an even bigger freak. “You like ‘em barely legal or something? Warning you now, I’m in my mid twenties. So sorry to pop your bubble if that’s the kind of thing that you were after.”

“But if you weren’t-” He trailed off, smile ticking into something warmer. “We can definitely arrange something.”

Charon shook his head, taking his items back. He headed to the cash register, his new satellite trailing after his heels. “Real chatty type aren’t you? Don’t talk all at once now, and if you’re waiting for me to stop talking, not really the best approach, I’ll admit. So just interrupt any time, feel free-”

He gave a lopsided shrug, paying in cash and taking his bagged items while the other was still rambling. Charon had no interest in the sort of thing he was offering, and walking away seemed easier than explaining. Content in knowing he’d stopped an altercation from breaking out, and nothing more.

A streak of denim quickly skirted around him, blocking his path to the door. His arms were spread wide, bulging backpack dangling off one arm. The smile having taken on a more frantic tinge. “Hey wait hang on, last thing I promise! So, name’s Hermes, pleased to meet you. You seem like someone completely uninterested in me in general! Which means there’s a pretty decent chance you’re not looking to chop me up into little bits and leave me dead in a ditch!”

He crept forward, scuffed sneakers squeaking against the tile floor. “You look like you have somewhere to go so I’ll cut to the chase. I’d really love to hitch a ride with someone who probably won’t murder me, and this looks like an excellent option! How would you feel about filling up your good deed quota for the month all in one go?”

Charon took a quick look at his phone. 2:08 AM. Technically on track for the rest of his schedule, allowing for some brief detours. He took another look at Hermes, whose winning smile poorly hid the rather unfortunate state of the rest of him.

If Charon had been physically capable of letting out a heartfelt groan, he would have done so.

‘ _Sign?’_ He asked, moving his hands slowly and deliberately, on the off chance the hitchhiker did happen to know a word or two. Trying to pretend he hadn’t already made up his mind.

“Uhhh, A little?” Hermes’ smile dipped into a grimace, worried that this could count against him. “I know like, a good chunk of the alphabet, and the basic stuff?”

‘ _Where to?’_

Hermes grinned, back to that manic looking confidence in a flash. “Anywhere but here. If you want specifics, technically I’m heading to the west coast. But I’m mostly looking to get off the highway.”

Charon itched for a cigarette. He thought of how obnoxious it might be to share his cab with someone else for an indeterminate amount of miles. He thought of how he would feel if Hypnos or Thanatos were in the same situation. Far from home and at the mercy of strangers.

On another plane, his thread stretched and quivered, considering resistance, before bowing to the inevitable.

He signed a quick ‘ _yes’_ , jerking his head towards the door. Looking away from the clear relief in every line of Hermes’ body. “Thank you; seems I really do owe you quite a bit after tonight, promise I’ll make it up to you later!” Hermes skipped out the door, somehow managing to walk backwards so he could face Charon while he talked. Miraculously avoiding slipping and falling flat on his ass despite all the snow outside. “Lead the way hoss. Which one’s yours?”

Charon jerked his thumb towards the 18 wheeler on their left, a dark, grey behemoth that dwarfed them both.

Hermes froze in place, as if surprised at the sight, little bits of snow melting into his hair. “I’m starting to think I hit the jackpot with you.” The first smile he’d given Charon crept over his face again; warm and suggestive. “If you got a bed in there too I’m willing to offer you one free favor, no questions asked.”

Hermes made no move to enter, even after Charon had unlocked the cab; letting globs of white pelt against his bare thighs, ridiculously exposed for 20 degree weather.

Charon didn’t bother answering, holding open the door, and motioning for Hermes to step inside. Who swung himself up one step, and then the other, pausing before entering the cabin. “Listen, if you’re planning on doing some crazy axe murderer shit, I’d like to formally request for you to do it _after_ I get to pass out in the backseat, ok?”

He gave a quick wink, shimming over the center console until Charon could enter after him. Following the echoes of his clear delight. “You _do_ have a bed! Can I use it?”

Charon waved his hand dismissively in assent. Tossing his little plastic bag into the passenger seat and cracking open the first energy drink. Going about the process of getting back on the highway as Hermes got himself settled in the back.

His unexpected passenger was out like a light before a full ten minutes had passed. Kicking off his shoes before he collapsed face down into the mattress, not bothering to change into warmer clothes.

Charon turned up the heat on his behalf, moving onto the second energy drink. Ready for a fairly long night.

* * *

Hermes slept for something close to an impressive thirteen uninterrupted hours. Stumbling out of bed at three in the afternoon with a sleepy little noise. Slumping into the passenger seat in a tangle of denim. “What time is it; and would you be ok with me charging my phone?”

“Also-” He peered through the windshield at the rows of trailers stretching out before them. “Where are we?”

Charon went through his requests in order. Showing Hermes his phone - the screen helpfully announced it was 3:27 PM - and pointing to the usb adapter in the center console where he could plug his own in to charge. ‘ _Truck Stop’_ He signed, pleasantly surprised that Hermes seemed to grasp it without needing any explanation; despite the lack of confidence he had shown in his understanding of ASL earlier.

“Thanks,” Hermes rasped. Rooting through his overstuffed backpack for his charging cable, and a dented looking water bottle. He quickly chugged it to the last drop, anxiously peering as the battery icon flashed across the cracked screen of his own phone. Letting out a triumphant noise as the screen flared to life, despite the abused casing making it look like the thing should have been long dead.

“And thanks again for letting me crash here and not killing me horribly.” Hermes’ thumbs flew across the keyboard. It made Charon dizzy just to look at it, jumping from app to app in a blur of colorful notifications.

He ignored the platitudes, not really feeling like he’d done anything other than the bare minimum. Other than perhaps getting Hermes off the highway, as he had requested. _‘Closest large city, 40 minutes.’_

“Huh, that’s quicker than I thought. Where are you headed by the way?” Hermes kept up his auditory barrage. Fingers tapping away at the screen even when his head was turned towards Charon, evaluating him again in metaphorical morning light.

Charon sank deeper into his seat, not liking that look in the least.

Hermes finished his message with a flourish, tossing the phone to land on the top of the dash with a clatter. Charon suddenly had a pretty clear picture of how all those cracks had happened.

“Hey, don't think I even asked for your name, sorry about that.” Hermes’ body tilted towards him, draped across the armrest in a way that couldn’t have brought any kind of comfort to the human spine. “Who do I have to thank big guy, come on don’t keep me in suspense.”

‘ _Charon’_ He spelled. Watching Hermes watch him in turn, a strangely predatory look from someone Charon could pick up like a handful of grapes. A lithe, but definitely little body contorting around in his seat.

“Charon,” Hermes said slowly, luxuriantly. As if he could tuck the syllables under his tongue for safe keeping, a pleasant secret. Charon’s doubts for his good deed began to double exponentially.

"Kind of ironic don't you think; Charon and Hermes."

He supposed it was, now that he thought about it. Having been too caught up in the general state of Hermes to take notice of his odd name before.

“Alright then Charon. Back to my first question. Where you headed?”

Without knowing exactly why he was doing it, Charon brought up his next destination in the GPS mounted onto the dash. It cheerfully informed the world at large of the two full days of driving it would take to get there. At least, when abiding by the daily maximum hours allowed by his company. A path that edged slowly northwest, but ended less than halfway through to the actual west coast.

Hermes brightened at it regardless, perking up as soon as he saw it’s position along the map. “That’s great! Do you mind if I stay on with you till then?”

The long line of his surprisingly well muscled legs rested against the dashboard. Micro shorts riding dangerously southward at his new position. “Gives me time to make it up to you if you want.”

Charon let the long curtain of his hair obscure his discomfited expression, gently tapping Hermes’ ankle until he took his feet off the dash. Ignoring the throaty laugh he got in response. “I promise I won’t even put my legs up.”

Hermes gave a cheery little salute, two fingers tapped off from his temple with another wink. “As long as I’m in here, you’re the boss.”

‘ _Why west?’_ He tried to make his fingers slow down over the sign. Distracted by the scrape in Hermes’ cheek now that he noticed it again. Raw and red looking in the sunlight that streamed through the windshield.

Hermes’ smile dipped. Lopsided when he tilted his head, as if trying to puzzle Charon out. The jacket slipped down over his shoulder, exposing another long scratch that ran down the side of his neck, previously covered by the high denim collar. Charon felt certain this had been a very deliberate action.

“Just needed to get away from where I was before you know? It’s not really something I feel comfortable talking about with a stranger.” Hermes enunciated the words crisply, as if aware of their irony. “But who knows? After two days, maybe we’ll be great friends, and I can tell you all about it.”

“But enough about me, back to you.” His passenger parried, back to his bright smile. “While you think it over, it’s only fair if I get to ask a little bit about you. Make sure you’re not just an especially patient Axe murderer and all that.”

“You know how it is these days,” Hermes quipped, sotto voice. “I’ll even trade you. You get one question, and I get one question, as long as we both promise to answer. I’ll go first, got any family? Alive not axe murdered people that can testify you’re not some sort of psychopath?”

Charon stared at him blankly, a little shocked at the nerve of him to start asking personal questions back. But ultimately unable to get too mad at the nosy little hitchhiker. Considering that trying to check if Charon wasn’t some sort of serial killer was the first smart thing Hermes done in the entire time he’d known the man.

He picked up his phone and scrolled through the painfully small photo gallery. Bringing up the one picture he possessed that had both him and his brothers in the frame, holding it out for Hermes’ perusal. ‘ _Siblings.’_

“Cute, I can see the resemblance!” Charon took his phone back before Hermes did anything like start swiping through the rest of the images.

Two could play at that game at least. ‘ _Your family?_ ’

Hermes let out a low hiss, sucking air through his teeth without actually looking that put off. “I see we’re playing dirty now. But fine. You’ve trapped me by my own rules.” He sighed dramatically, fishing for his own phone and going back to jumping from screen to to screen with dizzying speed.

“Without going into the uncomfortable details, they’re kind of the reason I was in the middle of nowhere without a plan. I left home, which my dad doesn’t exactly agree with, because he’s kind of a controlling asshole. I’m headed to my sister’s house, since she’s the only one of us that’s managed to get as far away from him as I want to be.”

Hermes turned the phone towards Charon, who squinted through the spiderweb of cracks to make out the image underneath. Hermes, next to an older looking woman. Clearly related, but very different at the same time. They had similar noses, and mouths. But hers was pressed in a flat line, while Hermes’ was stretched into a wide grin.

The color schemes were also in opposite, making the contrast even more pronounced; each of them their own kind of brown. An even tan for Hermes, warmly colored alongside the chocolate of his tousled hair. The sister was darker, with cool undertones, made all the more striking next to her gold jewelry.

“That’s Athena,” Hermes chattered, swiping through a couple more pictures of her. Candids where she was slightly less stern, pushing Hermes away from her personal space with a stiff hand and an indulgent smile.

“I think she lives in California? Not sure, somewhere near there in any case. I’m waiting for her next email so she can give me the actual address. But I definitely know it’s on the west coast. She’s letting me crash with her while I sort my own stuff out.”

Hermes tossed the phone back onto the dash, Charon holding back the impulse to try and catch the poor, abused object before it cracked some more. “That’s my sob story. So what do you say Charon, you ok putting up with me for a couple more miles?”

Charon tried to deliberate, look at the situation objectively. Calculate the extra cost of a new hanger-on that might have no money of his own. The time it would take to factor in a second person’s needs into his schedule.

The macro, instead of the micro. The way Hermes had pretzeled himself into the seat, swallowed by ill fitting clothes. How he had been knocked out for a full 12 hours in clear exhaustion. His complete and utter disregard for his own safety, which all but guaranteed that if Charon said no he would just wade out into the sea of semis outside. Find someone else to take him who might not be so altruistically inclined.

Charon pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling an odd sense of dread as he nodded once.

“Great!” Hermes chirped, moving onto bigger and better things now that he had his transportation sorted out for the near future. “Do they have any food around here, or a laundromat?”

In that other place - whose echoes Charon distantly sensed despite having no access to it - their two disparate threads snapped together into a larger cord. An infinitesimal act, whose shockwaves could not yet be felt.

They went about the rest of their evening. Charon brought Hermes to the main building of the stop. Fully equipped with a number of eateries and a small laundromat. Killing time until the sun dipped into the horizon. Both of them unaware of that first flap of the butterfly’s wing.

Not capable of seeing, this early on, the slick, black bodies that lounged underneath the trailers of nearby trucks. Luminous eyes that glinted a hazy white in the darkness of the evening. Tracking their journey back across the parking lot, into the cab.

The bodies waited, a loose puddle of dog-like shapes, with open mouths panting hot breaths. Salivating in ravenous sympathy for the decay that had started to trickle its way inside the cab. Traces of death that pawed at the door, worrying at the seams. Little handprints of the inevitable end, coming home to roost. Yearning for its masters.

The next morning, Charon tried and failed to scrub out the little black spots, thinking it was soot.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to EVERYONE who had to put up w me ranting about this au. But especially scrumpy and umi, for sending me the many horrible t shirts that will take a starring role in this terrible journey


End file.
